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@60billion
no, im not dead and no, this blog is not dead, ive just been rly sick.
I’ve become ill, so I won’t be very active here. My Skype is available upon request, though.
60billion:
“Sorry to disappoint, but the show’s cancelled.” Cancelled, and about to hit the road. Knowing the Gung-Ho Guns had already found his location meant he’d lingered far too long in one place. Goddammit. “Pack it in, no refunds.”
✣ “Well…” The man let out an airy chuckle. “I suppose I’ll have to make sure not to miss the next one, then.” His smile could be heard from the old man’s voice. “We’ll keep an eye on you, Vash the Stampede. I suppose you could say, were something like fans of yours.”
“No.”
Gone was the tired facade of the passive giant. One hundred and fifty years had left him with a deteriorating sense of trust, and patience, his filter littered with holes that only grew with every new scar. “If my brother is so hell-bent on fucking with me, he can do it himself.”
“I don’t want a fight.” But he’d surely retaliate, should the puppet-master instigate. “Anything else, I’m not interested. I’ve already heard anything your leader has to say.”
✣ “Oh believe you me, sir. I’m not here for a fight with you, for if I was, well you’d already be dead. Oh no I’m just a simple member of the audience for now.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but the show’s cancelled.” Cancelled, and about to hit the road. Knowing the Gung-Ho Guns had already found his location meant he’d lingered far too long in one place. Goddammit. “Pack it in, no refunds.”
60billion
“It seems someone has decided to make a surprise appearance. Welcome to the stage, Mr. Vash the Stampede…”
“I don’t want a fight.” But he’d surely retaliate, should the puppet-master instigate. “Anything else, I’m not interested. I’ve already heard anything your leader has to say.”
Easy is the descent to Hell; The gates of Dis lie open day and night. But to retrace your steps and escape to the open air- Now there’s the struggle.
Vergil, Aeneid VI.126-129 (via brideofsparda)
“I think I’m losing it.”
He said it so plainly, so flat, as if commenting on the weather, blood red eyes eerily focused. “It’s getting harder, pretending nothing’s wrong, but-” For a fleeting moment, he looked afraid. “I can feel myself slipping. Every now and then. Think about how easy it’d be to repeat July.” He hesitated, suddenly ashamed of himself, and he withdrew, eyes cast downwards. “I’m starting to think like him. If I start acting like him, you have to put me down.” He couldn’t look at Nicholas, not after such a confession, his sin was far too great for even God himself to absolve. “I trust you, Wolfwood. I trust you enough to know you won’t repeat any of this elsewhere. That’s how confession works, right?”
Nick frowned slightly as he listened, though it was more in concern than anything else. He knew that feeling. Perhaps not the SAME way Vash was describing, but he knew how it felt to be hanging by a thread, to be so afraid of YOURSELF…
“…Not exactly. Confessions are told to God by the priest, Spikey. But this wasn’t a confession, it was you talkin’ to me as a friend… An’ I wouldn’t even tell God.” Not like God was listening anyways. “I promise.”
That did little to ease the tension in his body, but he nodded vaguely, “Promise me one other thing, Wolfwood. No one else would, or could. Promise me.” He wouldn’t repeat the request, he absolutely hated the concept, but if worst came to worst, they’d have no choice. Not if it meant leaving the planet in one piece.
The immediate reaction given was to push that thing away. “You already owe me enough to run a small country, you mooch.” For a moment, the serious expression had faded to the more familiar, albeit faked, carefree air. Just as quickly as it’d come, it was gone again. “I don’t want forgiveness or to be absolved of my sins, I just want you to listen. Just that.” His eyes seemed to bore through Nicholas, almost pleading for confirmation.
“Cheapskate.” He stuck his tongue out at the outlaw, but conceded and put the confessional away, this time giving Vash his undivided attention. The goofy charade was gone, and he was taking the Plant seriously now.
“Go ‘head, Spikey. I’m all ears.”
“I think I’m losing it.”
He said it so plainly, so flat, as if commenting on the weather, blood red eyes eerily focused. “It’s getting harder, pretending nothing’s wrong, but-” For a fleeting moment, he looked afraid. “I can feel myself slipping. Every now and then. Think about how easy it’d be to repeat July.” He hesitated, suddenly ashamed of himself, and he withdrew, eyes cast downwards. “I’m starting to think like him. If I start acting like him, you have to put me down.” He couldn’t look at Nicholas, not after such a confession, his sin was far too great for even God himself to absolve. “I trust you, Wolfwood. I trust you enough to know you won’t repeat any of this elsewhere. That’s how confession works, right?”
nicholas-wolfwood
Midnight, a brief respite from the day’s heat in the form of chilly winds and cold sand hiding in the creases of clothing. Tonight’s reprieve included lukewarm tequila, passed back and forth.
“I want to confess,” were his first words to the other, after a painfully long period of silence. “You still do that, don’t you?” He nudged Nicholas’ knee with the now half empty bottle, showing no signs of his usual, possibly faked, drunkeness.
“You betcha!” Aaand out comes the confessional!
“Just put a coin in the top, first!” He had a feeling this was going to be a doozy, but if it was something he’d already been warned about, he felt ready to fake surprise at least.
The immediate reaction given was to push that thing away. “You already owe me enough to run a small country, you mooch.” For a moment, the serious expression had faded to the more familiar, albeit faked, carefree air. Just as quickly as it’d come, it was gone again. “I don’t want forgiveness or to be absolved of my sins, I just want you to listen. Just that.” His eyes seemed to bore through Nicholas, almost pleading for confirmation.
I’ve having trouble keeping up with the new turn of events! AHH! But I see a new Vash, and I’m curious of him! <3
Perhaps he and Diablo need to meet.
Now I wanna color alternate versions of Vash… Hmmm… I feel inspiration coming on…
60billion
yes hello it is i
if youre curious, feel absolutely free to ask questions, i have a lot of headcanons and details ive yet to share and i rly like answering questions about my muses
casual reminder that this blog includes the deterioration of vash’s innocence and mental state, you’ve been warned
60billion:
Heroic? He almost wanted to laugh. “I am as bad as they say, Meryl. You read my file. You saw what I’m capable of. You know who my brother is.” He finally met her stare, and he looked tired, more than anything. “I’m no safer than the next outlaw. A big heart doesn’t mean much when I’m getting people killed just for knowing me.”
His hand twitched, just barely inching towards her. “You mean a lot to me. I’m always happy to see you. But I can’t be your hero, not in this life.” Not while the world aged and died around him, while he stayed young, and grew stronger among the decay. He dropped his gaze, “I’m sorry, Meryl.”
“I’ve…” She had to think of her words before she spoke. There were so many rumbling through her brain it became hard to sort them. This was what he did to her. He filled her head with too many words to sort out.
“I’ve met a lot of bad people while following you around. You’ve taught me a lot of things.” She bit her lip as she focused once more. Almost as if working one sentence out a time. “And what you’ve taught me more than anything, is that being known as good or bad isn’t a choice. Only truly being is. And…you’re good. No matter what your file says, or your bounty says. You’re the best there is.”
She took a breath, putting her hands on her knees. “And being a hero isn’t a choice, when you’ve chosen to be this good.”
He tried, he tried so hard to keep being a good person. Even as his body became a roadmap of scars, and the few friends he’d made had looked upon him in fear, or anger. He tried so hard, but he was growing so tired.
He didn’t speak again. He had nothing to say in response, for once. Instead, he leaned over, head dropping to her shoulder, his crown tucked beneath her jaw. He let one arm dangle between her knees, knuckles brushing against hers for a fleeting moment.
“Thanks.”
nicholas-wolfwood
Midnight, a brief respite from the day’s heat in the form of chilly winds and cold sand hiding in the creases of clothing. Tonight’s reprieve included lukewarm tequila, passed back and forth.
“I want to confess,” were his first words to the other, after a painfully long period of silence. “You still do that, don’t you?” He nudged Nicholas’ knee with the now half empty bottle, showing no signs of his usual, possibly faked, drunkeness.
60billion:
He wanted to agree to it, invite her along, ease the loneliness of days alone in the wastes, but-
“Too risky. Just one ambush, one accident, I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt.” She deserved better than having to cough sand out of her lungs, go for days without even brushing her teeth. She was so young, so pure, she deserved waking up in a soft bed, enjoying gourmet teas and the daily news, instead of waking up freezing, eating gritty bread and grittier, burnt coffee.
“You know you’ll always find me. I couldn’t hide from you if I tried.”
“If I quit this job, or if they pull me from this job…I mean you do know what they’ll do right?” She turned to him them, giving him a firm glance. “They’ll reassign me to a new target.”
She clarified. “A bountied outlaw who really is as bad as they say. Am I safer with someone like that than I am the most heroic man I’ve ever met?”
Heroic? He almost wanted to laugh. “I am as bad as they say, Meryl. You read my file. You saw what I’m capable of. You know who my brother is.” He finally met her stare, and he looked tired, more than anything. “I’m no safer than the next outlaw. A big heart doesn’t mean much when I’m getting people killed just for knowing me.”
His hand twitched, just barely inching towards her. “You mean a lot to me. I’m always happy to see you. But I can’t be your hero, not in this life.” Not while the world aged and died around him, while he stayed young, and grew stronger among the decay. He dropped his gaze, “I’m sorry, Meryl.”
60billion:
Lord, that girl had too many sisters, Vash had long since forgotten their names. “I hope everything goes well for them,” he leaned forward as well, an elbow propped on one knee, chin in hand. His smile withered at her next words, and he suddenly couldn’t bear to look at her, lest she see the guilt cloud his eyes. “I don’t run away on purpose, not every time. Sometimes, I don’t have a choice.” Keeping crumbling city-scapes at his back kept those cities erect. Avoiding people kept them alive. If he was alone in the middle of nowhere, then he’d have no one’s blood on his hands. “You know very well what happens when things go wrong when I’m around. I’d really rather that not happen again.”
She nodded. She did know. Meryl knew all too well what happened. Gangs of people after his bounty, people wanting to test his limits. And even worse people, didn’t want a dime, but only to cause him pain, no matter how many innocent people had to be punished for it.
“You could always invite me along, you know. When you have to leave?” She laughed a little, still avoiding his eyes. “It would sure beat chasing you…”
He wanted to agree to it, invite her along, ease the loneliness of days alone in the wastes, but-
“Too risky. Just one ambush, one accident, I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt.” She deserved better than having to cough sand out of her lungs, go for days without even brushing her teeth. She was so young, so pure, she deserved waking up in a soft bed, enjoying gourmet teas and the daily news, instead of waking up freezing, eating gritty bread and grittier, burnt coffee.
“You know you’ll always find me. I couldn’t hide from you if I tried.”
derringer-merylstryfe:
Meryl never stood still, not in his memory. So small, so lithe, but so full of energy, just watching her was exhausting. But then, she’d have to be quick to keep up with him. Those eyes, though, he’d never miss a glance. His smile widened a fraction at those unshed tears. Making Meryl cry never sat well with him, but this time, at least, she wasn’t sad.
He touched the empty space at his side, the paint feeling from wooden planks, inviting her to join him on the well-worn steps of the equally as worn shack of a ‘house’ he’d rented for the night. “Milly isn’t with you?“ Almost felt off, not seeing that giant smile, and bright green eyes.
Her feet were too eager to move closer as she made her way to the seat beside him. “Her big middle…little big…” She stopped for a moment as she tried to remember, finally giving up. “One of her sisters is having another baby.”
She leaned her elbows on her knees, focusing pointedly on her boots. “So…” She mumbled into her lap. “How long until you run away again?”
Lord, that girl had too many sisters, Vash had long since forgotten their names. “I hope everything goes well for them,” he leaned forward as well, an elbow propped on one knee, chin in hand. His smile withered at her next words, and he suddenly couldn’t bear to look at her, lest she see the guilt cloud his eyes. “I don’t run away on purpose, not every time. Sometimes, I don’t have a choice.” Keeping crumbling city-scapes at his back kept those cities erect. Avoiding people kept them alive. If he was alone in the middle of nowhere, then he’d have no one’s blood on his hands. “You know very well what happens when things go wrong when I’m around. I’d really rather that not happen again.”
derringer-merylstryfe
It had only been months, and yet, it had felt like decades. Stark white against deep blue, the faint jingling of her earrings when she turned her head, the faint scent of perfume. One of few who never looked at him with the scream of monster in her eyes. He’d loved her for that small gesture of courtesy.
“You always manage to find me,” was his greeting, uttered from a smile, while his eyes spoke of unending exhaustion. Just one friendly face, in a sea of fear, rage, and greed, made the weight on his shoulders lift. Even if just for the moment. “Don’t worry, the city’s still standing.”
“Of course I do.” It was a simple reply. A small smile hidden beneath a stern set of eyes as she took him in. It was almost surreal to see him in front of her once more. That’s how it always was: Every time she’d been about to give up on him, he appeared. It was nothing more than good fortune.
“It’s my job, after all.” It took all of her not to reach out to him. Would he notice how hard it was to stand still? Or how wet her eyes were? She laughed a bit at his next statement. “It’s nice to see you too, Vash.”
Meryl never stood still, not in his memory. So small, so lithe, but so full of energy, just watching her was exhausting. But then, she’d have to be quick to keep up with him. Those eyes, though, he’d never miss a glance. His smile widened a fraction at those unshed tears. Making Meryl cry never sat well with him, but this time, at least, she wasn’t sad.
He touched the empty space at his side, the paint feeling from wooden planks, inviting her to join him on the well-worn steps of the equally as worn shack of a ‘house’ he’d rented for the night. “Milly isn’t with you?" Almost felt off, not seeing that giant smile, and bright green eyes.